In Five Parts
by Boticelli Puzzle
Summary: Posthogwarts HD slash. Draco loves but doesn't love Harry...Harry is alone and needs someone. Their story, told in five songs. POV changes each chapter.


A/N: I own nothing that's copyrighted to JK Rowling or to The Feeling.

"**Sewn"**

_Give me the song and I'll sing it like I mean it_

You're humming absentmindedly. That hardly ever happens.

_Give me the words and I'll say them like I mean it_

"Hello, Harry!" you say brightly. "I missed you." Harry looks up from the table.

"Hello," he replies politely, lacking enthusiasm.

'_Cause you got my heart in a headlock_

He looked so forlorn and alone, that for a moment you wouldn't mind forgetting everything and taking him into your arms and whispering that everything would be all right. But, of course, you have something to do, an ulterior motive. Wishing you didn't have one, wishing that you actually were just there to be a good person and help a friend doesn't make it go away.

_You stopped the blood and made my head soft_

But he's so -

_And God knows_

What would your father say?

He stands up, refusing to look you in the eye. You walk over, and tilt his face to yours. Something in those bright eyes tells you his story, of perpetual hope and disappointment, his heart being recycled over and over, and that even so; he's hoping you'll be the one. Wishing forever. Such expectations!

_You got me sewn_

Your father had expectations. Something in you has to bring up your father even when you're here, holding him. So you decide.

_Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah_

Not listening.

_Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah_

You go to open the window. "Are you sure it's safe?" he asks, hands loosely clasped in front of him.

_Danny boy, don't be afraid, to shake that ass, and misbehave_

You step back. "What do you mean?"

_Danny boy, I know you got time, but what are you waiting for,_

"Well," he says, starting to blush. "I don't know."

_Anyway the dust may just blow away, if you wait for a windy day_

Patience. "I won't open it if you don't want me to."

_But you may find the chance has past you by._

He sits, and motions for you to sit next to him on the sofa.

_I can't do the walk_

He snuggles closer. "Did you really miss me?"

_I can't do the talk_

"Of course," you say, and kiss his forehead.

_I can't be your friend_

"Thank you so much for being here," he says into your collarbone, driving you crazy. The warm breath, and the ghost of his lips moving over your skin…unfortunately, you can't do anything but pull him closer.

"No problem," you say.

_Unless I pretend_

_So give me the song and I'll sing it like I mean it_

He's humming this time.

_So give me the words and I'll say them like I mean it_

"I'm tired," you say, standing up and stretching.

'_Cause you got my heart in a headlock_

"Of me?" he asks, only half-joking.

_You stopped the blood and made my head soft_

"Of course not. How could I ever be?" You can't seem to make yourself sit back down on the couch.

_And God knows_

You catch a glimpse of yourself in the rain-streaked window, and have to close your eyes. They say you look like your father, all the time, all the time.

_You got me sewn_

You can't sit, you can't stand, you can't watch, so you pace.

_Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah_

There's just the sound of the wind lightly blowing, of the rain hushing the world to grey. And it's not a sound, but Harry's eyes are following you as you take restless steps in front of him.

_Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah_

_Danny boy, don't be a fool_

"Do you want something?" Harry asks, standing up.

"Depends," you say slowly, directing a smouldering gaze at him.

_Take upon to break a rule_

He blushes again and ducks his head. "A drink. What do you want?"

_Danny boy you're looking so low_

"What do you have?" you join him in his small kitchen.

_You looking like the dead grown old_

He's leaning into the fridge as though he were a fifty-year old mother with a pained back. You sit, finally, on a chair, and tilt your head back.

"I know," you say, and stand up abruptly. "Let's go for a walk!" The rain is louder now, a metronome keeping time of your conversation.

_Anyway the blues just may wash away, if you wait for a rainy day_

He doesn't even look up. "It's raining, Draco."

So? You want to say. But you know he's right without meaning to be. You know the only reason you want to go out of the flat is because, then, walking together -

_But you may find, the chance has past you by_

You can look like what you forever wished to be but never would be.

_I can't do the walk_

"I'm sorry," he says when he sees and thoroughly misinterprets your face.

_I can't do the talk_

"It's fine," you sigh, and look away. You can't. You just can't watch his eyes imploring at you to accept this, this way of life.

Of course, that's not his intention. But you can choose to misconstrue this action.

"Draco…" he puts a hand on yours.

_I can't be your friend_

You let his warmth seep into you for a moment; no more. Then you shake him off.

_Unless I pretend_

"It's fine," you repeat. "I just don't know what's gotten into me today."

Liar. You know perfectly well – but it's not just today. It's everyday, a feeling lovingly abused and recycled.

He is silent.

_So give me the song and I'll sing it like I mean it_

"Harry?" you say tentatively. Somehow you've imagined this moment. He's looking at you like he doesn't know what he wants, twisting his hands into each other.

"Thank you for coming," he says, and the genuine appreciation sounds like music in your ears.

_So give me the words and I'll say them like I mean it_

"I love you," you say. Blandly. With no emotion, none of the heartbreak you know that's coming. You shouldn't have said anything, you should have left it for a less awkward day…but what day wasn't awkward? This was the ultimate betrayal.

_'Cause you got my heart in a headlock_

He doesn't exactly gasp, but his lips part in surprise, and his hands freeze in mid-fidget. You take his fragile shoulders into your hands, and he stares straight into your core. It almost hurts to stand there, but you draw closer, slowly, slowly, until your lips are a hair's breadth apart. His eyes are fluttering closed, the romanticist.

_You stopped the blood and made my head soft_

But suddenly, you are terrified. What if you don't do it right? What if he just wants a taste then rejects you? Your heart is his, but what will he do with it? Your inadequacy and insignificance compared to him engulf you, and you don't know what to do. Should you throw the world away and yourself headlong into hell and kiss him? Or…

He moves forward. Such a vast hair's breadth! Your eyes are wide -

_'Cause you got my heart in a headlock_

You love him for moments like these…no one else…

_You stopped the blood and made my head soft_

You hesitate, then, smiling against his lips, close your eyes too.

_Made my head soft_

You're blind.

_Made my head soft_

Blindly in love.

_Made my head soft_

Blindly committing.

_Made my head soft_

_Yeah, yeah, yeah_


End file.
